Those Changing Mavericks of Maverick Change

maverickMcCain and Palin, “the original mavericks,” as they’re described in the video below, (I know McCain is ancient, but Palin’s younger than I am. How is she one of the “original” mavericks?) have now announced that “change is coming.” That’s right — they’re not just mavericks. They’re mavericks of change. You betcha.

I was watching MSNBC today, and they had a couple of those dueling pundits (or as Palin calls them, “pundints”) segments. The big stumper question they hit the democrats with, after pointing out how McCain and Palin had ostensibly taken that tough as nails maverick stance and bucked the established powers that be in their party, was “What examples can you give us of Obama and Biden openly disagreeing with the rest of the Democratic party?”

What bullshit.

First of all, how many of the examples of McCain or Palin being “mavericks” — really standing up to their party — are true? Of those positions, how many do they still hold? Standing up to your party and then changing your mind and agreeing with the bosses doesn’t count as maverick in my book.

Mavericks, my ass.

And they don’t really talk about what they’re going to change. They just say “change is coming.”

Considering the fact that Republicans have been in power for almost eight years now, and that for all but about a year and a half that power was absolute, “change” is represented by the other party. Who says you have to be a maverick Democrat to represent change?

So when someone points out that McCain has voted with Bush 90% of the time, and the counter argument to that is that Obama voted with the rest of the Democratic party about 90% of the time, the proper response should be that that represents voting against Bush well over half of the time.

And that represents change, whether Obama chooses to strap on a six-shooter, hop on his horse and call himself a “maverick” or not.

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Giddy Up

You know how sometimes you get a song stuck in your head, and it just won’t go away? Sure, that happens to everyone. What about situations — something happens, or you notice something about your surroundings, and there’s that damned song. I knew someone long ago who’d find a rock song, usually by the Stones, that she’d find relevant to almost any situation: if your shoelace was untied, Iris would somehow connect it in her head to Waiting on a Friend or Miss You, and she’d break into song with a voice that sounded like she’d never inhaled anything but cigarette smoke since birth — kind of cool considering she was 15 and didn’t smoke.

I find myself in a similar situation whenever I hear Joe Biden’s name. I don’t know for sure yet whether he’s going to be Obama’s running mate, but it’s looking more and more likely, and that means that at least until November, I’m going to be hearing his name a lot, and if Obama becomes president, I’ve got four or even eight years of hearing that name pretty damned often.

What song is it I hear whenever someone says “Joe Biden”? It’s Elvira, by the Oak Ridge Boys. Iris was lucky. She loved the Stones. Me, I can’t stand the Oak Ridge Boys, and I hate that song in particular. But that doesn’t mean I’m throwing my support to Johnny “Lotsa Houses” McCain. I’ll just have to deal with it. It’s my sacrifice for the future of this great land.

I guess I should consider myself lucky it’s not Thank God For Kids.

Joe Biden and the Oak Ridge Boys

Eyes that look like heaven, lips like sherry wine
That girl can sure enough make my little light shine
I get a funny feelin’ up and down my spine
‘Cause I know that my Joe Biden’s mine

So I’m singin’
Joe Biden, Joe Biden
My heart’s on fire Joe Biden
Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow
Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow
Heigh-ho Silver, away

Tonight I’m gonna meet her at the Hungry House Cafe
And I’m gonna give her all the love I can
She’s gonna jump and holler ’cause I saved up my last two dollars
We’re gonna search and find that preacher man

Now I’m a singin’
Joe Biden, Joe Biden
My heart’s on fire Joe Biden
Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow
Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow
Heigh-ho Silver, away

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Delaware? Please.

I warned you that I was going to write about this. If you’re not sufficiently open-minded and can’t accept the possibility of a truly global conspiracy, go ahead and return to your pornography.

Still here? Good for you. I knew I could count on you.

I’ll start off with some background information — an incident that took place right down the street at the in October of 1958.

SmootsThe Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity used their pledge, , to measure the length of the Harvard Bridge, which spans the Charles River between MIT’s campus in Cambridge and Boston’s Back Bay neighborhood. Most people actually refer to the bridge as the Mass. Ave. Bridge (since it carries Massachusetts Avenue across the river), and a few call it by its proper name (I once overheard a group of MIT students state that it’s called the Harvard Bridge because it’s so poorly engineered that MIT refused to let it be named after them), but many of us lovingly call it the Smoot Bridge.

Since then, the bridge has been completely rebuilt, but the markings are still there, they’re repainted whenever necessary, and police report on accidents on the bridge as occurring at such and such Smoot marker. The Smoot is as much a part of local lore as that Paul guy… you know — the silversmith. For your information, a smoot is about 170cm, or 5 feet, 7 inches. You can check on Google if you like.

Now, here’s the part of the story that’s not so well-known. In fact, a worldwide cabal conspires to keep the truth from us.

Word of the Smoot Bridge spread far and wide, quickly reaching Baltimore, where the Lambda Chi Alpha brothers at determined that they had to find a way to beat the MIT chapter’s — MIT’s term for a clever, benign, and “ethical” prank or practical joke.

They told their freshman pledges that they were to rewrite American history. The freshmen had to come up with a plan, get it approved by the frat brothers, and carry it out.

One pledge, James Delaware, came up with the idea of renaming Baltimore. The upperclassmen declined this one, deciding that it would never work and MIT’s chapter would never let them live it down. Then Delaware came up with a brilliant compromise: they would give a name to some area that no one paid any attention to and then get people to recognize it as official.

Welcome to DelawareThey drove out to an area near the Maryland – New Jersey border and spent one very long night putting up road signs that mapped out the borders of their new “state,” Delaware. While this was going on, other pledges broke into the university’s library to steal and alter atlases and history books, so that by morning, the original group of twelve colonies that became the United States had, at least in some resources, a thirteenth member.

Obviously, this wasn’t enough to change history. That took years. As each of the fraternity brothers graduated and went out into the world, they would seek out ways to spread their version of history and geography. The process took so long, that it was noticed by only a small number of observers.

Because so much time and labor went into the process, and because your average Hopkins grad has at least a bit more clout than most people, it eventually just found its way into history so that today, people living and working in that little corner of Maryland actually believe they’re in “Delaware.” The idea of making this fake 50th state (since it was created in the 1950s) use “the First State” on signs and license plates just demonstrates the extraordinary confidence the frat boys had in their abilities. And clearly, they were right to be confident.

Today, almost no one knows the truth about “Delaware.” This nonexistent place is even represented in Congress! The secret is jealously protected by the original pranksters, who are all in positions of great power in politics, religion and map making. One of them, James Delaware’s roommate from the frat house, is considering a run for the presidency in 2008. If Joe Biden is elected, he will certainly be America’s first president from a fictional place.

It’s all true.

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